George Flatts, Vanessa Fitz-Gerald, and Astrid Rose Fitz-Gerald, or the survivor or survivors of them.’ ”
A stunned silence swamped the room. Freddy drew a ragged breath and raised a wineglass, twirling it in an exaggerated arc above his head. “A toast!” he cried. “To the late great Uncle Merlin, a very sporting gentleman. The game has just begun.”
“Yes,” agreed Vanessa, lips curving into an unsweet smile, “by fair means or foul!”
CHAPTER
Seven
Ben and I decided not to return to London that night. We needed time to talk. Aunt Sybil in a rather formal voice agreed to stay on for a few days until the cottage could be prepared for her, but she went to her room when the front door slammed on the last of the other relatives, all of whom spurned our offer of hospitality for the night. As late afternoon darkened the windows, only the solicitor remained with us, and he was impatient to be off. He kept glancing at his watch.
“You will each be sent a copy of the will,” Mr. Bragg said, “And here is the memorandum your uncle left in my keeping regarding his funeral arrangements, which I have fulfilled to the best of my ability. As you can see, the terms, like those of the will, are eccentric.”
I passed the paper to Ben and he read aloud: “I, Merlin Grantham, request that I be accorded the same manner of funeral given my mother, Abigail Grantham.”
Ben whistled. “Sentimental old geezer, wasn’t he?”
“I only met Mr. Grantham once when he came about his will, and he was not well then, kept coughing into his handkerchief.” Mr. Bragg was looking round for his coatand gloves. “Naturally I did all I could, but the funeral arrangements posed an almost impossible task.” He pursed his lips in dissatisfaction. “Miss Sybil Grantham remembers staying in this house at the time of her aunt’s funeral, but she was only a child of five or six. She did recall the use of a horse and carriage but the other details are as dead as Merlin Grantham and his mother.”
“Rather careless of Uncle Merlin to be so unspecific.” I folded the paper over and pressed it between my fingers. “But I suspect he had other things on his mind—composing his list of schoolboy howlers for his Last Will and Testament.”
“Reprehensible, but all perfectly legal.” Mr. Bragg buttoned his coat. “Do not be persuaded otherwise. I wish both of you good fortune. May you find the treasure and live happily ever after. Well, I must be off. As stated in the final paragraph of the will, you will be the recipients of the income from your uncle’s investments during the interim, six month, period.”
“Goodnight.”
We followed him down the hall and shut him out into the rising wind and lowering skies. It was confrontation time.
“You can wipe that Cheshire cat expression off your face.” Ben headed back into the drawing room. “I refuse to be inveigled into this farce or to compromise my integrity for the sake of …”
“You wouldn’t be so noble if you thought you stood a chance of qualifying for the dough.” Tossing a cushion off one of the fireside chairs, I sat down and smiled smugly across at Ben as he lounged in the wingback opposite.
“Hark who’s talking! I’ll bet my whole share of the take that I could fulfil my part of the bargain while you are still sinking your teeth into cream buns and murmuring”—his voice rose to a dreadful muffled twitter—“ ‘Just one more teeny-weeny stuffing session and, cross my size forty-two chest, tomorrow or sometime next week I positively will—God’s honor—go on my diet.’ ”
There you go!” I cried triumphantly. “You are incapableof stringing two sentences together without the use of obscenity or blasphemy. Whereas I when motivated am a woman of willpower.”
“Don’t make me laugh!” Ben did just that—hateful snickering creature. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen your knees since you were two years old.”
“That piece of spite is not
A stunned silence swamped the room. Freddy drew a ragged breath and raised a wineglass, twirling it in an exaggerated arc above his head. “A toast!” he cried. “To the late great Uncle Merlin, a very sporting gentleman. The game has just begun.”
“Yes,” agreed Vanessa, lips curving into an unsweet smile, “by fair means or foul!”
CHAPTER
Seven
Ben and I decided not to return to London that night. We needed time to talk. Aunt Sybil in a rather formal voice agreed to stay on for a few days until the cottage could be prepared for her, but she went to her room when the front door slammed on the last of the other relatives, all of whom spurned our offer of hospitality for the night. As late afternoon darkened the windows, only the solicitor remained with us, and he was impatient to be off. He kept glancing at his watch.
“You will each be sent a copy of the will,” Mr. Bragg said, “And here is the memorandum your uncle left in my keeping regarding his funeral arrangements, which I have fulfilled to the best of my ability. As you can see, the terms, like those of the will, are eccentric.”
I passed the paper to Ben and he read aloud: “I, Merlin Grantham, request that I be accorded the same manner of funeral given my mother, Abigail Grantham.”
Ben whistled. “Sentimental old geezer, wasn’t he?”
“I only met Mr. Grantham once when he came about his will, and he was not well then, kept coughing into his handkerchief.” Mr. Bragg was looking round for his coatand gloves. “Naturally I did all I could, but the funeral arrangements posed an almost impossible task.” He pursed his lips in dissatisfaction. “Miss Sybil Grantham remembers staying in this house at the time of her aunt’s funeral, but she was only a child of five or six. She did recall the use of a horse and carriage but the other details are as dead as Merlin Grantham and his mother.”
“Rather careless of Uncle Merlin to be so unspecific.” I folded the paper over and pressed it between my fingers. “But I suspect he had other things on his mind—composing his list of schoolboy howlers for his Last Will and Testament.”
“Reprehensible, but all perfectly legal.” Mr. Bragg buttoned his coat. “Do not be persuaded otherwise. I wish both of you good fortune. May you find the treasure and live happily ever after. Well, I must be off. As stated in the final paragraph of the will, you will be the recipients of the income from your uncle’s investments during the interim, six month, period.”
“Goodnight.”
We followed him down the hall and shut him out into the rising wind and lowering skies. It was confrontation time.
“You can wipe that Cheshire cat expression off your face.” Ben headed back into the drawing room. “I refuse to be inveigled into this farce or to compromise my integrity for the sake of …”
“You wouldn’t be so noble if you thought you stood a chance of qualifying for the dough.” Tossing a cushion off one of the fireside chairs, I sat down and smiled smugly across at Ben as he lounged in the wingback opposite.
“Hark who’s talking! I’ll bet my whole share of the take that I could fulfil my part of the bargain while you are still sinking your teeth into cream buns and murmuring”—his voice rose to a dreadful muffled twitter—“ ‘Just one more teeny-weeny stuffing session and, cross my size forty-two chest, tomorrow or sometime next week I positively will—God’s honor—go on my diet.’ ”
There you go!” I cried triumphantly. “You are incapableof stringing two sentences together without the use of obscenity or blasphemy. Whereas I when motivated am a woman of willpower.”
“Don’t make me laugh!” Ben did just that—hateful snickering creature. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen your knees since you were two years old.”
“That piece of spite is not
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